


even keel

by justlikeswitchblades



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Zexal
Genre: Canon Compliant, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-30
Updated: 2017-12-30
Packaged: 2019-02-26 01:40:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13225494
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justlikeswitchblades/pseuds/justlikeswitchblades
Summary: “I’m going to be in town tomorrow,” Kaito finally admits, his voice quieter than he would like, squeezing the fabric in his fingers. “But don’t get the wrong impression. It’s for Haruto, not you.”





	even keel

**Author's Note:**

> happy belated birthday, christina!! im sorry i couldn't get this to you in time, but i hope it's worth the wait <3

Heartland City, by default, is gaudy and bright. A sea of neon structures and even stranger architectural choices, with similarly eccentric accents worn by its inhabitants. A capitalist mecca, where the technology is so advanced that digital advertisements flash and flicker in the sky. Kaito has been living here long enough to have gotten used to it, but that doesn’t mean he’s comfortable.

Most often, he aches for home. An expanse of forest at his back, a springtime meadow at his toes, and a wood cabin wedged in between, free from the technological behemoth he has now come to know, save for a small, staticy TV.

The world Kaito lives in, and the world he craves, could not be more polarizing. And yet; it is the cold that draws the two together. When the holidays arrive, the mismatched eyesore of city skyline turns to a uniform silver and gold. Some buildings are red and green; some still try to be more ostentatious than the others. The snow is a manicured white; the trash collectors patrol the dirt carefully every hour. But the lights Kaito sees, twinkling on endless lines, the green wreaths hanging on even the grandest of doors, bring him closer to his memories of wintertime at home.

Still, Kaito can’t help himself. His first instinct is to chafe at it, to be wary as he inspects the scalloped strings of lights that surround the circumference of Haruto’s bedroom, even as they cast his sallow features in warm, white light.

“Are you sure,” He asks, surrendering to the wrinkle in his brow. “They’re not too bright?”

Haruto smiles from where he’s been sitting up in bed, eyes sparkling at the strands of light.

“Nii-san, don’t you think they look like the stars? From back home?”

Kaito feels his breath catch in his throat. His heart quivers, as if it could rise--Haruto, like him, has been thinking of home. At the same time, his chest is on the brink of crumbling and caving in; all Kaito has been able to provide for his brother are these garishly patterned ceilings and floors, a cheap imitation of what they used to own.

“Haruto,” Kaito sinks to his knees beside his brother’s bed, fingers closing around a small hand. He opens his mouth, only to change his expression when Haruto shivers. “Are you feeling okay?”

Haruto shivers again, prying his hand out of Kaito’s grasp to burrow deeper into bed, pulling the blankets up around him.

“Cold, mostly,” Haruto tells him, smile still on his face. “It was warmer when I shared a bed with you.”

Kaito thinks of his closet of a bedroom, his firm cot of a mattress, first issued when he was admitted to the testing barracks. Those hallways are quieter now; Kaito’s bunkmate is little more than a forgotten name. Haruto’s enlarged bassinet hardly passes for an improvement, but Kaito has fifty dollars tucked away, from a bet on an alleyway duel. That’s enough for a pair of pajamas and a blanket, likely a toy and some candy too, if he budgets right. Haruto deserves so much more--the world, even--there’s no denying that.

But if Kaito can make this work, maybe, that would be okay.

When it comes to himself, Kaito thinks little of material desires; when he does, it’s when he needs something to survive. He tries to treat nostalgia in a similar vein; there’s no use longing for times that can't be returned to, bridges that have been scorched, memories that can't be erased. 

Home is one thing that lingers. And then there are things like the burner D-Gazer he keeps in the back of the storage unit underneath his bed, with its chipped plastic and peeling paint. Its light is dim, pulsing as he lies back, turning it over in his hand. His thumb hovers over the familiar name. The dial tone warbles; he holds his breath, unsure if he wants a response. 

“Kaito,” The screen brightens in front of his closed eyelids; the voice on the other end sounds mildly enthused. “Didn’t expect you to be in bed this early.”

“Sleep likes to evade me,” Kaito squints up at the flickering feed. V is smiling back at him, though his eyes are wary. His hair is swept back, tied up in a way that looks artfully messy. “Figured I should get a head start.”

V hums in vague agreement; the quality is more pixelated than Kaito would like, but it still picks up on the darker shades underneath V’s own eyes. Kaito exhales, and shifts onto his side. He places the D-Gazer on his pillow; if V notices, he doesn’t mention it. Kaito looks away, staring at the texture of his bedsheets. 

“I’m going to be in town tomorrow,” He finally admits, his voice quieter than he would like, squeezing the fabric in his fingers. “But don’t get the wrong impression. It’s for Haruto, not you.”

V breathes out something like a laugh. 

“You don't have to invite me if you don't want to.”

“I’m not inviting you,” Kaito huffs, looking him in the eye. “I need to know where I can go shopping.”

***

They agree to meet in front of a store that takes up the better part of a city block. Kaito doesn't know it by name, but he knows the location; he's prowled these streets before. The cement facade is ornate unblemished by the spotlights that roam over the building at night, though he can’t say he finds himself enjoying the tinsel hanging in the windows. V is sitting on a bench out front, cuffs and collar lined with fur, chin dipped into his coat to keep warm. Kaito’s stomach flips. When he seems Kaito, he smiles, cheeks rosy from the cold.

The interior of the store is gold and deep vermillion. There are clothes on silvery hangers, tucked in alcoves in the wall, with light falling on them like holy objects. The carpet looks like velvet, greedily soaking up the dirty snow from the soles of Kaito’s salt-stained boots. He catches a price tag in his fingers, and his eyebrows jump; his first instinct is to grab at V’s jacket and haul him back through the doors, into the falling snow.

“What the hell, Chris?” He hisses through his teeth, cheeks burning. “Did you ever take a moment to think I might’ve had a budget to work with?”

“I don’t want you to worry about money, Kaito,” V tells him, composed, his hands in his pockets. “It can be my treat.”

“I'm not interested in your pity,” Kaito snaps. “ _Or_ your charity.”

“What did you want me to do, then?” V asks, his brow furrowing. “Tell you to go shopping online? Take you to a store where everything is cheap and poorly made? Don't you want the best for Haruto?”

“Of course I do!” Kaito gestures with a sweep of his hands. He forces his voice back down, but his expression has cracked, desperation showing through the anger and the embarrassment. “Don't act like I'm the one who took everything away from him!”

“Kaito.” V frowns; it’s either a subtle mask of hurt, or good acting. Kaito can’t be bothered to differentiate. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You meant it some way,” Kaito huffs.

“Regardless of that, we can make this work. Pay what you’re able, and if it’s needed, I can pay the rest.”

Kaito’s brows draw together. He folds his arms across his chest.

“This isn't easy for me, Chris. Even if it's you. _Especially_ because it's you.”

“What can I do to make it easier, then?” V asks, taking out his wallet. “Give you what you need, let you pay me back if it'll ease your conscience?”

Kaito stares at the bills peeking out, crisper and cleaner than the paper he's used to dealing with.

“Haruto is my brother,” He asserts, shivering, painfully aware of how childish he’s acting. “Which means he’s my responsibility.”

“I won’t deny you that,” V tells him, hands raised, as if to suggest he’ll do no harm. “I just want you think about the offer.”

***

Kaito settles on the following for Haruto: red pajama bottoms, with an embroidered snowflake pattern, and a matching top with buttons. He sifts through the blankets before he finds one that matches, a curly, woolen ivory with red piping as trim. The store’s toy section is markedly less posh; the displays of cards and D-Gazers that sprout forth are still accompanied by cardboard cutouts of professional duelists, which Kaito cares little about. What he focuses on is the pastel wall of plush animals behind them--though that in itself is immense, and makes him take a step back. 

“You have a younger brother,” He looks at V, almost accusatory. “What does he like?”

“Michael would rather go shopping in a museum. As for Thomas,” V offers a shrug. “He likes puppets.”

Kaito mouths a curse. He reaches for a yellow monkey almost instantly, to get the task out of the way, but steels himself. He searches the wall, his chin in his hand. It takes time, but he finally decides upon a mint alpaca, nearly half Haruto’s size.

He adds up the total once, twice mentally before stepping in line for the register. He feels V’s gaze on his back. The wallet in his pocket feels too light. The extra bill in the other is impossibly heavy, but he still manages to hold his head up when he hands it over to the cashier. 

When his gifts are wrapped, he looks around, but V is already gone.

***

That night Haruto falls asleep in a burrow of fleece and comfort, the city lights outside his window illuminating his pale face in a warmth that his sickness usually drowns. The dark hallway that Kaito steps back into feels colder as a result; there’s a pang in his chest that nearly draws him over the threshold again. But he isn’t sure if either of them can deal with the fallout of waking up to him curled up on the star-patterned floor.

He continues down the hallway, stopping only when he sees V standing outside his door.

“It hasn’t even been twelve hours,” He sighs. “Saying you missed me won’t work tonight.”

“I won’t try,” V smiles, a bag in one hand, a briefcase in the other. He lifts the two items, inclining his head towards the door. 

“Well,” Kaito shrugs, and presses his thumb to the scanner. The door slides open; he strides to the bed, sitting down to kick off his boots. “Try your best to get comfortable.”

V steps into the small space, unable to curb the frown that crosses his features. The mattress, barely long enough to Kaito, slim in thickness. The storage spaces above and underneath the bed, a shallow closet tucked into the opposite wall. The shoebox of a bathroom hides behind another door, barely a foot wide.

“I can’t believe you’re still living here,” He wrinkles his nose. “I can’t believe you won’t let me help get you out of here.” 

Kaito’s laugh is dry, incredulous.

“ _Help_ me? I don’t need to be rescued, Chris. Where else can I go? Where can I take Haruto where he can be healthy and safe? I don’t own much; I don’t need space. I have a roof over my head. I’m surviving. I’m alive.”

“I’m not saying you need to live in excess,” V continues. “But you could be comfortable.”

“Funny hearing you say that,” Kaito gives him a pointed look. “You still live in your father’s house.”

“Kaito, that’s--”

“Different? Unfair? Off-limits?” Kaito exhales a breath through his nose. “You wouldn’t be here if that were true.”

“Listen,” He continues after a moment, his voice softer. “Fighting never gets us anywhere. I don’t know what you’re here for, but whatever it is, I’ll hear you out.”

There’s a cardboard box sitting in the closet; V hauls it out halfway, and sits on top, stretching his legs as far as the narrow space allows. The tips of his shoes graze the wall that houses Kaito’s bed. He holds the bag up, cords start to spin lazily in hand before Kaito, cautious, takes it from him.

He pulls out a thick, tissue-papered square, unable to meet V’s eyes when he unwraps it. It’s a trenchcoat. Simpler in design than what he usually wears, but warmer, a deep black.

“I know you’ll wear yours out someday,” V explains. “But that’s no excuse to freeze yourself to death now.”

Kaito makes a small noise in his throat; if anything, it seems to make V’s expression soften. He folds the coat up, and puts it back in the bag.

V sets the briefcase in his lap. He inhales quietly, almost shaking as his hand hovers on the latch. Kaito arches his brow; V looks down, and flicks the latch up. He cracks the briefcase open, just wide enough to stick his hand in. When he pulls it back out, he has an oxygen mask in hand, clear tubing spilling out from the briefcase. When he meets Kaito’s eyes, he looks guilty, about to apologize.

“Chris,” Kaito’s voice is barely a whisper. “What is that?”

“You look like hell,” V responds, eyes lowered. “I figured, if you aren’t sleeping well...this could help.”

“You know how I feel about experiments, Chris.”

“Nothing weird, I promise,” V tells him as Kaito takes the mask in hand. “Oxygen, melatonin, serotonin, lavender. All low levels, and the stream shuts off automatically after five minutes. You don't even need to use it, I just--”

“No, Chris, it's--” Kaito opens his mouth, closes it as he turns the mask in his hands. “Show me how?”

V nods, taking a small tank out of the case. 

“You just flip this switch down when you're ready to go to sleep,” He explains, sitting down next to Kaito. “The tubing is already connected to the nozzle, and it shouldn't slip off, even if you twist around in your sleep. There are two extra tanks in the case, if you need them. And, if you run out, you can just tell me, and I'll make you some more.”

“...If you want to try it, of course.”

Kaito nods.

He pushes the mask back into V’s hands, and V swallows, meeting his eyes. His thumb grazes Kaito’s cheek when he slips the elastic around his ears; Kaito lets his eyelids flutter closed. There's a pause, and then V’s fingers are back on his skin, pulling the mask away to kiss him, slow and searching. Kaito takes hold of his jacket, keeping him close.


End file.
